Barney's blether
by MajorBachman
Summary: Barney did not leave Buenos Aires. Yes, Hannibal spotted him. Yes, Barney wanted to leave. But Lilian decided she really wanted to see Tamerlane...  The rest is up to you, reader!
1. Chapter 1

**Preface to 'Barney's blether'**

Taking a reader somewhere he has never been before, showing him things he did not expect, guiding him in the opposite direction of Memory Lane is what writing normally is about. As a writer, you are like a deity, steering and commanding the events in the world you created. And you are the hidden guide on the reader's trip to Terra Incognita.

But what if...?

Yes, that's an interesting question. What if we did not create the world we're writing about? Now, that could be fanfiction. I believe we're in the right spot for that genre.

But what if... What if we take one more step back? What if we write about a world in which we do not wield the scepter? It would still be fanfiction, no doubt to that. But it could become an interesting and instructive exercise, for both writer and reader. Interaction. Instruction. Ingredients to a new melting pot of creativity.

Here is what I have in mind:  
1) I write a chapter.  
2) You read it and comment on it and/or suggest what will happen next, POV, style of writing, whatever!  
3) After a week or so, I'll decide which suggestion to follow.  
4) Back to 1

Now, to whirl this new universe into existence, here's creation:

Barney did not leave Buenos Aires. Yes, Hannibal spotted him. Yes, Barney intended to leave the Teatro Colón as soon as the lights went down. But Lilian decided she really wanted to see Tamerlane and promised Barney they would leave immediately afterwards. You know how persuasive women can be...

Now you, my dearest reader, decide what will happen next. For starters, please suggest a turn of events in your review of this preface and rule and walk this world with me.


	2. Chapter 2

_Okay, first chapter! I followed one of Lou's suggestions here._  
_Duffie, I'll keep your idea on Clarice in mind, good one!_  
_Demeter, perfect suggestion but a bit too soon._  
_Have fun!_

* * *

"Please, Lilian, can't it wait?"

"No Barney, this is urgent. I'll hurry, I promise. Okay?"

Lilian looked at Barney, pleading. He had grown accustomed to her joking around and pulling his leg every once in a while, and being serious in between. He was good at telling her current mood, even if they had only known each other for a relatively short time. He was familiar with her regular MO. But this was an extraordinary span of time moment. He really was in doubt what to do, but his thoughts almost seemed to flow by themselves, luckily.

_I have to go. Now._

_Would I leave Lilian to save myself?_

_Is she in danger?_

_He doesn't know Lilian!_

_Yeah, that's it. _

_Go outside and hide, wait for her somewhere safe._

He sighed and shrugged his massive shoulders.

"Okay then, go. But please hurry! I'll be waiting outside."

Lilian nodded and went hastily to the ladies' room.

She had registered his urgency but she really couldn't wait. He'd have to make do.

.

Lilian closed the door behind her and walked over to the free hand basin. The toilet behind her gurgled, that absurd sound always made her smile.

There had been several ladies in the room when Lilian entered, now only one remained, checking her make-up.

Lilian turned the water on and washed her hands. With her wrist, she pushed the lever down again and looked for a guest towel, but she didn't see any.

The lady besides her handed her one from her stack.

"Thank you," Lilian said.

"You're welcome," the woman said in unpretentious American, then turned to face her.

"I think you particularly enjoy Händel?"

Lilian found it a very peculiar question to be asked. She turned, the woman turned to face her also.

"I'm sorry?" Lilian asked.

"I asked if you enjoyed Händel, but I was being facetious, since your partner Barney already left the theater and is waiting for you across the street."

Lilian's eyes grew wide with amazement and fear.

_Barney, what did you do? What did you get me into?_

The woman smiled and Lilian would have believed its sincerity if it wasn't for her strange words.

.

Outside, Barney was getting impatient. Lilian knew he had been serious. _Dead serious_. Yet, she took her time, and time was something very precious right now.

His position on the other side of the 'Libertad' street, looking at the western entrance from under the trees and out of view, was perfect. He was sure he could not be seen by anybody coming from the theater.

It wasn't cold, but his knees were shaking anyway.

"Come on, girl, get going," he muttered.

He hopped a few times to calm down and lose the feeling of dread and nausea that was gnawing on his guts. To no avail.

He took a look at his watch. Ten minutes had passed since they parted.

A swift survey of the theater and street to make sure he hadn't missed her. No, she was still inside.

"This is ridiculous," he said to himself and he hopped a few more times.

He started counting to pass the time, when he got to a hundred, he decided to count back again.

Still, no Lilian.

He was starting to think he should do something. Either go back and look for her, or just go. Take the risk or be selfish? Suicidal? Sane?

"He who has overcome his fears will truly be free," he heard behind him in a very familiar voice, a voice he had hoped to never hear again...

* * *

_Short chapter, I know. But done on purpose. The shorter my chapters, the more interaction with and influance by my readers..._  
_If you have a suggestion for the plot or style or POV or whatever, please tell me in a review. Thank you, in advance._


	3. Chapter 3

_Thanks everybody for reading, reviewing and suggestions. That's what keeps this story going!_  
_I think we all agree some shared dinner should be the climax of the story, but let's crawl our way to that point, okay?_

* * *

**CHAPTER 2**

She knows I'm with Barney? And she knows he's outside? That's... weird.

"Barney? Is he okay?" I ask before I think about how silly those words are right now. Platinum hair's smile doesn't fade as she tells me I shouldn't be worrying about Barney.

What connects this daunting woman with Barney? I fully understand his agitation now, why he wished to leave a.s.a.p. and I realize I should have listened to him. She's... very scary. She seems to know all about Barney. Even his currents whereabouts. But what does she want from me? I have no clue what to do. I search for something to say, my mind races yet nothing worth saying pops up. I look around the room, we're still alone. Time's up, apparently, she starts to speak.

"Can you keep a secret?"

She keeps staring into my eyes. It feels as if she's scrutinizing every nook of my mind. Do I really need to say what I think? She probably already knows what I'm about to say. I decide to nod.

She smiles and speaks.

"Me too."

She laughs briefly, then continues, very seriously suddenly.

"If you wish to see Barney again, follow me. Now."

And with that, she walks away. After a few paces she looks around, gives me a wink and waits.

I follow. What other choice do I have?

Hannibal once said I was a lion cub. Nice to play with. But cubs grow to be adults and you don't play with full-grown lions anymore. Hannibal is my lion, I'm his only lioness. We're a small pride but being small is our strength. He leads, I hunt. Together we are complete.

.

I'm the honey in the lion.

I'm a pigeon. Deep-roller. And I haven't crashed, I can fly. And I flew. I escaped my self-made cage of institutional structures and rules. Hannibal taught me to build my own. Together, we've created our nests.

I'm a cannibal. I ate the superfluous brains of that low-life good-for-nothing Paul F. Krendler and enjoyed it. Do smart people's brains taste better? Would _her_ brains taste better?

.

"I'm sorry?" I say, I didn't quite get what she said.

She smiles and repeats.

"I said: we'll be touching up a few old cuts here."

Another smile, a giddy one for that, but with an unmistakable background of laden gravity.

We leave the theater and halt on the sidewalk. She turns to me.

"And now we wait."

As we wait, I look around, but I don't see anything. I look at her. She isn't looking anywhere, she just stands. Her face is bright. After a few moments I get the eerie feeling she's _there and not there_. She's in thought, but not lost in thoughts. Her face is bright as if she's in the middle of a conversation but I sense her mind is racing. She doesn't look at me, though.

"It is time. Follow me."

Without a further glance in my direction, she starts to cross the street. I follow her.

On the other side of the street, she turns right.

"I really enjoy this avenue," she says and turns to me. I look at her and see she doesn't expect an answer or a request for further explanation.

"_Libertad._ I'm sure you know that means 'freedom'."

I nod.

She looks at me, then looks around.

"Here we are," she states and opens the door of a shining limousine, then takes a step back.

"Please, get in," she says. A fluent gesture and a sincere smile accompany her words.

But now I doubt if I should get in. I try to look inside, but it's too dark to see. She doesn't rush me. I would have run if she had. She just waits.

I realize there's only one reason for me to get in. Barney. Two weeks is a short time, yet I'm sure he's worth the risk. Barney's a good man.

"In for a penny, in for a pound," I say and get in.

* * *

_With Christmas due in a few days, we'll all be more busy with the holidays and family and friends than with fanfic. Priorities._  
_So, I wish everybody a merry and blessed Christmas and a happy New Year and hope to be seeing you all again next year._  
_A special wish of good health to those in need of it._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 3**

What's taking Lillian so long? I should have been more persistent to get out right away.

I sigh and shiver. I hop from my one leg to my other and back again to get warm. Yeah, well, it's 70 degrees out here but I feel as cold as the ice in Dante's ninth circle of hell. This certainly is not regular for me, but this isn't an ordinary moment either. Last time I was this nervous must have been when Janet and I... you know...

.

Come on, girl, get going. We'd better not run into _him_. Or _her_. I shouldn't forget about her. I knew there was something special between them. He had _answered_ that first time. He killed Miggs for her. And she took a great risk visiting him, both in Baltimore and in Memphis. Everybody has been asking me about them, but I'm still not sure how to put it.

I do a few more hops to get warm. To calm down. To get rid of the gnawing worms in my stomach. All in vain, of course. My watch tells me it's been ten minutes since she went to the ladies' room.

.

Time's up, Lillian. Lather, rinse, go. I should have seen it coming. He can talk anybody into anything. He was courteous to her. Maybe he was courting her as well. But seeing them together here is not something I imagined. I know they were _attracted_ to each other, but not in the ordinary way. They're unlike any couple I've ever seen, even from movies. What the hell happened at Muskrat Farm? I recall The Tattler headlines when they found out she probably was there too. Well, I'm _sure_ she was there.

Hi folks. Yes, take a good look at me and be amazed. Is it really that special to meet a big brown man in Buenos Aires?

I've been so stupid. I should have added one and one then instead of... hanging around with Margot. I should have realized what Mason was up to. That Doemling, what a pompous ass.

.

A quick glance at the theater and the street to see if he hadn't missed her, but he hadn't. He told himself this was getting ridiculous. A few more hops and then he counted to a hundred and back again. Barney thought he'd better...

"He who has overcome his fears will truly be free."

A male voice behind him, raspy. _His _voice.

…

No other option than turning around.

…

"Dr. Lecter."

That must have sounded even worse than my usual voice.

"How nice to meet you again, Barney. I admit you haven't been on my mind that often, but I remember the care you took of me with kindness. How are you?"

His words are gentle but with a serrated edge.

"I'm fine, Dr. Lecter."

"Would you mind if I asked you what brought you to Buenos Aires?"

"Vermeer."

"I could have guessed. I did not expect my memorabilia to allow you this kind of traveling, though. Luckily, there aren't that many Vermeers."

"You told me that was because he worked on order."

"Quite true. And that was his blessing and his curse, correct?"

"I remember, Dr. Lecter."

"Do you remember Ms. Starling?" he swiftly asks, his voice not the note or two higher as people who switch subject to something nicer tend to.

I can feel my mouth drying out and know he notices too.

"I'll never forget her, doctor."

"That's good," he says and smiles and looks at me intently. I'm sure he can hear my knees wobble and teeth chatter.

"Come," he says, "there's our ride."

.

He warns me not to speak when we pull over some moments later. A door of the limousine is opened, but the doctor has turned off the lights and the interior remains as dark as the night. Then I hear _her_ voice.

"Please, get in," she says.

I realize she must be talking to Lillian! But Lillian doesn't get in right away. I gasp for breath and I startle when I feel the doctor's hand on my shoulder, reminding me to remain quiet...

Seconds or minutes go by, I cannot tell.

Then I hear Lillian say "In for a penny, in for a pound," and I see a shape getting in. The doctor then turns on the interior lights to help her find her way.

* * *

_To all my readers whom I haven't spoken yet: happy new year!_  
_Let's see if we can get this project back on track again, the holidays weren't that kind to it, all of us were more focused on other things. As we should be, I agree._

_As to this fanfic: I have your suggestions in my mind; we'll get to them in due time: a dinner, more on Clarice, Barney's thoughts. But what will our direct next step & chapter towards these goals be? Or should the next step be or involve one of them? All suggestions are welcome, you know that._


	5. Chapter 5

_Thanks to all who have been (proof)reading and reviewing, I hope you feel I've taken your suggestions into account, that this fic is OUR fic. I'm enjoying the process a lot, I hope you are too._

_

* * *

_

**Chapter 4**

Lillian was nervous and she was not. Looking at Barney was evidence enough for her to realize the sensation she was experiencing was nothing compared to what he evidently was going through. There was no way the man and the woman didn't register this also, but they acted - and very convincingly at that! - as if they didn't notice. No, that wasn't really true. It really appeared as if they didn't notice his discomfort, but it was beyond any doubt they did. Barney's nervousness and their ease made Lillian uncomfortable. What was going on here? Who were these people? They shared a silence that appeared alien, not of this earth. They lived on another plane of consciousness.

.

After some time, at a moment Lillian didn't expect, the woman addressed her again. Her voice more suave and gentle now than in the ladies' room.  
"I perceive Barney hasn't told you about us. Which is, to be honest, very understandable."

Lillian's earlier ideas of the woman were confirmed. Scary. Sees right through me.

"Our ways crossed each other a few times, most often for business. And as is often the case with business matters, that's not the first thing you want to share with others."

A small, deliberate pause thickened the air. Lillian's breathing turned a bit irregular, she was not aware of it herself, but the couple was.

"Barney understands. He knows us and he knows we know him."

Lillian learned that _know_ can sound like an ax hitting a skull.

"We really need to tell Barney, my dear," said the man, "that he shouldn't be afraid the driver will hear us. There separation is closed. It's sound-proof."

An ambiguous smile accompanied his words. Lillian turned to have a look and saw the glass behind her. Barney didn't move, nor speak. The man's countenance was a blank again, the same expression the woman had had; in thought but not lost in thought.

"Call me Clarice," the woman spoke.

It didn't take Lillian too long to register that the silence _Clarice_ issued was meant for her, to tell them her name.

"I'm Lillian."

"Well, Lillian, it sure is nice to know Barney has found somebody to share his mind with," Clarice continued.

"The two weeks we've been traveling together now is only a limited amount of time, too little to really know each other. We were enjoying our shared interest, art."

"I told her about my wish to see every Vermeer in the world," Barney added.

Lillian was glad to hear him talk, she was afraid for him. She could see the beads of sweat on his head.

"A seemingly ordinary man capable of the extraordinary," the man said softly.

And suddenly Barney recognized the great compliment paid to him by his former mentor.

"Thank you, doctor," Barney replied.

"You're welcome."

The smile accompanying the words was sincere.

.

"Now, Barney, please tell us how you recognized us."

Barney's slight smile faded somewhat. He knew there were many wrong answers here, a lot of wrong ways to respond. The doctor was still a mass murderer, no matter how civil and at ease he was right now. And he was sure it would be a mistake to underestimate Clarice. He had known that before and he knew it now. Yes, now even more than ever. It was evident Clarice had changed. Grown. She was Clarice but more so. He recognized the doctor's hand in it, yet it was safe to say he was looking at Clarice herself and not some homunculus the doctor created.

He cleared his throat once or twice before he could speak.

"I didn't recognize you at first, but felt something familiar."

Clarice handed him a bottle of water from a mini cooler at her side. Cool, not cold. He took a sip.

"It was not until I looked at you in the theater through the binoculars that I recognized you. Your bearing, doctor. Not the bearing you had when you taught me, but the bearing I sometimes witnessed when certain visitors came by."

Clarice nor the doctor reacted but Barney was sure they fully understood.

"I realized beyond doubt whom I had encountered when I saw the mark on your cheek," he said, looking at Clarice.

"Then, I knew for sure. What many had thought - that you were at the barn - was true. What some had suggested - that you survived - was true. What only one paper dared to proclaim - that you were with him - was true. And now, knowing that, I'm scared seven colors of shit. But you definitely already knew that."

Nobody spoke for a while after Barney said these words. He looked out the window, avoiding any inquiring glimpse. His mind was still completely focused on his company so he didn't really see the places they passed. He could hear Lillian move in her seat. He was sorry for her, sorry for getting her into this. He could live with himself for getting into the hands of Dr. Lecter, he could not live knowing he had endangered the life of a woman like Lillian.

.

The doctor pushed a button and told the driver in fluent Spanish to halt here. The limousine fluidly pulled over to the curb and came to a gentle stop. Clarice opened a door and got out. With a slight gesture of his hand the doctor invited Barney and Lillian to leave the car next. Lillian, with a determination and ease Barney hadn't expected, thanked the doctor and got out gracefully. He wondered what she was thinking. Maybe she was scared. If so, she didn't quite show it. Maybe she wasn't. If so, he knew she should be.

The doctor closed lines and exited the superb vehicle. He closed the door, walked over to the driver and gave him some instructions the others couldn't hear. Then the car drove off silently, leaving the four of them on the curb of a lane, bordered with separate houses. A well-to-do neighborhood. The lane was preposterously wide, as all houses were preposterously large for the small families that undoubtedly inhabited it. Posh.

"We have a small stroll ahead of us, I hope that won't be too much of an inconvenience," said Hannibal.

Even though it wasn't at all that late, the road was very quiet. Too quiet for Barney's taste. In silence, they walked perhaps a quarter of a mile before the doctor halted and entered a code at a gate. Nearly soundless, the metal framework slid to the side, giving them entrance towards the inconspicuous separate house further down the plot. With another slight gesture, the doctor invited them to proceed. Barney watched Lillian nod and go. His knees were still very shaky, it had surprised him he had been able to walk at all. Well, if Lillian was going there, what else could he do but follow her - even if it meant follow her into hell?

For hell was probably what awaited them. If this was their own, real home, the chance of them getting out alive were pretty slim. The doctor would never risk his identity. Their identity - Barney corrected himself. And if this wasn't their home, then they were free to do as they please...

"Are you up to an espresso, Barney? Or do you prefer an American coffee?" Clarice asked Barney.

"I'd prefer the coffee," he answered, looking at the wondrous woman walking next to him. She didn't look at him, but walked an easy pace, gracefully.

"Or would something stronger be more welcome," she asked and laughed, which sent a shiver down Barney's spine. He realized, again, how much she had changed. She was at the same far away level as the doctor, unreachable unless she allowed you to. Then he thought maybe he should compare her to a still, daunting pond whose surface is motionless and you can't guess how deep it is. But you just know it's deep and dangerous - you can feel it in your stomach.

_

* * *

_

_If you hadn't noticed yet: the 'mentor' lines are a reference to Demeter1973's 'Mentor' - one of the best Hannifics._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 5**

Clarice unlocked the door. Hannibal had placed himself between Clarice and their guests to keep them where they were while Clarice disarmed the security system. In functionality Hannibal was like a lackey, but in stance and carriage he was the aristocrat. Clarice motioned for them to proceed. Barney let Lillian go first so he could see her, keep an eye on her. He followed her into the spacious lobby.

.

As they proceeded into the living room, Hannibal closing the line, Lillian took a good look around and decided she liked what she saw. Actually, it was as expected. He who owns a Maybach has a corresponding house. Two good two-and-a-half-seater couches that Lillian recognized as Chesterfield were positioned in the center of the room. They took their places appointed by Clarice, who seated herself on the other couch. She found the contrast between scared and skittish Barney and frightened yet watchful Lillian striking. Neither stood a chance, Barney was fully aware of that and Lillian not, but she was very frightened, yet she managed to keep her cool.

Lillian continued her inspection of the living room. It didn't have much in it, but it was all quality stuff and in tune with each other. It took her maybe half a minute before she noticed the room lacked any personal items. No pictures, no books, no used glasses, the room could have been one in a display house. Freaky was the word that entered her mind, though she normally would have eschewed using it.

"Well then, Lillian, now that we're all comfy, let me tell you the story of my husband, Barney and me."

Barney's hand took a firm hold of the armrest of the couch, his fingers pressing hard into the luxurious leather, luckily not so hard that his fingers popped through. The sweat on his arms made them stick to the leather and that didn't feel good.

"Coffee and tea will be here in a minute," Clarice continued and smiled. This was the first time Lillian believed the smile to be completely in place and sincere, not a mask or diversion. Clarice told them an abridged version of Hannibal's incarceration, Barney's position at Baltimore and her own career development, only once interrupted by Hannibal carrying the tray with tea and coffee and serving it out to them. He then retreated to a corner of the room.

Barney sat through the monologue with knives in his belly. Though Clarice didn't tell them all, she told them enough to be able to fill in the blanks. And Lillian would. And that's what worried Barney most. Knowing what they knew now, they were a loose end in Dr. Lecter's life. And he never kept any ends loose.

He was not sure if Clarice had become completely like Dr. Lecter also, but he feared she had. She most definitely had changed, walked the same sphere as Dr. Lecter now, but he just couldn't tell _how much_ of his behavior she had taken over from him, how capable and willing of killing someone innocent to remain at large.

"Did Ardelia Mapp ever visit you?" Clarice asked Barney.

A few seconds of silence before Barney answered.

"She did."

"How was she?"

"Angry."

"At me?"

"Possibly. Probably. Or at Dr. Lecter, I don't know. And I'm sure she felt hurt and cheated."

"I had hoped she would understand."

Barney cleared his throat.

"Eventually, she did."

"How do you know?"

"We met a few more times. We talked about you, about Dr. Lecter. It took her some time, but I think she finally accepted it. Your decision wasn't easy for yourself, you can understand it was even harder for her to accept. She's still very FBI."

"That's true," Clarice acknowledged, "she's always been the loyal type."

Lillian took a leap of faith.

"Do you miss her?"

It lasted only a second or so, but there was a slight shift in Clarice. Barney could see the Clarice he had known momentarily. It took her a while to answer.

"Yes and no," she finally said. "The process that lead me where I am now is not easily understood and accepted. It took me a long time to come to terms with myself since some decisions I made were not done consciously. It is only now that I can say I understand myself at that time. And I have accepted what I decided and what I've become. It would be easy to describe me as a defected FBI officer, living with the man I was supposed to arrest. That's if you think of the FBI as the institute where I belonged. But did I belong there? I know now it is my parentage that provided me with all the fidelity, bravery and integrity that I need, not the FBI. Ardelia was looking for something else in the Bureau, and she found it. I do not miss that Ardelia, but sometimes I do miss the Ardelia that was my friend. I sent that friend a gift, hoping it would give her enough comfort and save her from the other Ardelia that wants to go looking for me. I'm glad to hear she understood in the end, but I doubt she really does."

Her unrestricted confession confused Barney. From the confession itself, he recognized her current status as the only one possible for her. From the fact that she told them all this, he only got more worried. Their presence at their home (Was it really their home?) was a threat to their achieved status quo.

Barney startled as Hannibal unexpectedly addressed him softly from behind at arm-length.

"Barney, could you give me a hand in the kitchen?"

.

When the men had left the room, a serene quiet filled the room for a short while until Lillian addressed Clarice, being sure that being straightforward with this bloofer lady would the best course of action.

"So, here you are. Seemingly content with what you have and have left behind. Being with the man you love and who loves you. The only catch is - you are on the run. Fugitives."

Clarice waited for more, her face emotionless.

"What you told me - if I had read it in a book, I would have said it was preposterous. I would not have believed a word. But this is not a book. Here I am - sitting opposite you. I was sure you weren't joking from the moment I met you in the ladies' room. Every nerve in my body tells me I'm in a precarious situation. And then there's Barney. I've never seen a man that large that scared. And if he's that scared, I should be even more. Yet, strangely, I think I'm less frightened than he is. Barney is scared shitless. He knows more, maybe I should be as apprehensive as he is, but what I feel mostly right now is feeling pity for you."

"There's no need for that, Lillian. I have accepted everything that has happened. What has happened is irreversible anyway, it's no use saying coulda, woulda, shoulda."

Lillian nodded in agreement while Clarice was amused and amazed by Lillian's freedom of speech.

"So you said. But that doesn't alter what I feel."

Clarice sat back in silence. She could sense Lillian was speaking the truth. She wasn't half as scared as Barney even while she had been told enough to know what lethal company she was in.

Clarice and Hannibal hadn't decided yet what to do with their unlooked for guests. There had been enough options and moments to kill them, but no direct reason. There was no haste. There was time to play. Separating them had diminished their options for escape even further.

It wasn't these last three years that taught Clarice she could kill for survival. Evelda Drumgo had taught her, for example. These last three years had merely taught her to handle it better.

"Maybe you'll kill me before the night is over," Lillian continued. "I know you could. And I think you would. But that doesn't matter to me. A heart attack ten years ago nearly killed me. That taught me the value of life. Every second of my life is a gift, and every second could be my last. I stopped worrying about the time ahead of me. All that matters is _now_."

Clarice didn't smell a rat. She believed Lillian told the truth. And by doing so, Lillian's position imperceptibly shifted from a precarious walk at the unprotected edge of a precipice to a path with a hand rail.

"A wise way to lead your life," Clarice said with a smile. Lillian was glad to see it was another sincere smile, without a hint of malice.

"You've done very well so far, Lillian. You've been very frank."

Some noise from elsewhere in the house disturbed the placid dialogue. Clarice read Lillian's eyes and saw the anquish. She was touched by Lillian's concern for Barney.

"I only heard a plate falling, Lillian. I think Barney's fine."

Clarice saw many emotions replace the anguish. Lillian was a good woman. Concerned for a man she had only known for so short a time.

"Chances are you won't need the advice, you appear to be a special and gentle woman," Clarice said. Lillian nodded in acknowledgment.

"Hannibal does not agree with rudeness or bad manners. If you haven't been playing a game - and I think you haven't - I suggest you continue doing so. Nobody can hide anything from him. _He will know_."

And again, Lillian was reminded of an ax by the word _know_.

"Now, if my senses aren't deceiving me, Hannibal will be here in a jiffy to announce we're expected in the dining room."

* * *

_So we're approaching dinner. Seems Barney's fine - at least, that's what Clarice said..._  
_Some of you have asked to write about thoughts of escape or attempts at escape, or to have Hannibal and Clarice insist that Lillian stays with them as a guest and see how Barney will react. I'm sure writing a chapter with these suggestions would be no problem. But I wouldn't mind hearing other suggestions for the upcoming chapter(s) anyway!_

_Oh, and I notice my chapters slowly grow longer on their own, didn't have to work on that. We all hope that process will continue, right? Though my first idea was that shorter chapters would mean more interaction between us. Seems it doesn't matter. So, I'll stick to having the chapters decide their own length._


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 6**

When the doctor asked Barney if he could give him a hand in the kitchen, it was at first the fact that he found the doctor to be in such close proximity that startled him. The double meaning of the doctor's words hit their mark a second later, sending an extra surge of adrenalin through his body. Adrenalin keeps us alert and going but exasperates us faster. Barney was starting to experience that effect, he yawned shortly as the doctor lead him out of the room, presumably to the kitchen. Barney wasn't sure of the doctor's intentions toward him right now and he wished many things, most of all to be anywhere but here. Ironically, the Stones came to mind and Barney could hear Mick singing "You can't always get what you want".

.

"Doctor Lecter?"

"Yes, Barney?"

"Could you show me the bathroom, please?"

Hannibal half turned and smiled.

"Of course," he said and led the way again.

They walked and Barney noticed they now were at the backside of the house, he saw they passed the back door.

"Here's the bathroom," Hannibal told Barney. "The kitchen is over there. I'll be waiting for you."

"Thank you, doctor."

With a small and elegant bow, Dr. Lecter left Barney alone.

The big man quickly stepped inside the bathroom, closed the door and locked it. He leaned against the door for a few seconds and lifted his hands. They were still trembling a bit. After a few conscious breaths, he was able to leave the door and step over to the toilet. He hoped he would be able to re-button his pants with such shaky hands when he was done. And he was sure the doctor expected him to sit down, so he did.

.

When he washed his hands after he was done, the cool water running down his hands had a soothing effect on him. Its coolness was great, he needed that. The bar of soap he found on the sink had a splendid almond scent and was a pleasure to use.

.

On his way to the kitchen, he shortly shuddered as he recalled his gram reading from the Bible, Isaiah 53: "He is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he openeth not his mouth."

Then his eye caught sight of the key in the back door. _The key was still in it._ A quick glance down the corridor assured him Dr. Lecter wasn't looking. Here was an option for escape. He could get out. Now. Or some time later, under the pretense of another visit to the bathroom. But how could he get Lillian out at the same time?

.

Dr. Lecter was busy in the kitchen. He heard the hesitation in Barney's stride and knew he had seen the key. Barney didn't take it though, he noticed. Hannibal shortly smiled to himself, a spontaneous response he'd never allow himself if he wasn't alone.

.

Barney entered the kitchen and found the doctor dressed in a white smock-frock.

"I have an apron for you over here, Barney. Though I wonder if the clothes you're wearing would be worth less or more if you spoiled something on it from _my_ kitchen..."

Barney managed a smile.

"Really, Barney. The next time you take a woman to the opera, and most definitely at the Teatro Colón, you ought to dress up for the occasion. I am surprised they let you in. But I admit I'm glad they're clean at least. I know how difficult that can be when you're on the move."

"Suitcases and hotels aren't kind to clothes, doctor. But I know how to wash."

"I know, Barney, I know. I remember your cleanliness back then. And you still are, I perceive you've already washed your hands. Will you take care of the entrée?"

"I'm not much of a cook, Dr. Lecter. You will have to help me."

"It's very simple, I assure you. We're having _Melone e Prosciutto_ - melon and ham. Here we have the Melone di Cantalupo and over here, some Prosciutto di Parma."

Barney could smell both ingredients, a nice combination of sweet and salt.

Hannibal walked over to the dresser and when he turned back to Barney again, he held two knives in his hands, a broad and a narrow kitchen knife. He savoured the sight of Barney flinching.

"Use the broad knife to cut the melon into wedges. You don't need to wash the melon, I've already done that this afternoon. Ten wedges, you can use the stripes on the melon for that. But we'll only need eight wedges. Remove the seeds with a spoon - yes, over there are the spoons you can use. And fillet the melon with the narrow knife. Will you manage, or do you need a demonstration?"

"I think I'll manage, Dr. Lecter."

"Good. Then put the wedges by two on a plate and slice them into parts carefully, so they'll remain in a row. Then you can drape a slice of the ham on each wedge. You know how to handle a meat slicer?"

"I'm sorry, Dr. Lecter. No."

"Come here, I'll show you."

.

Barney started cutting up the melon, feeling like a surgeon performing a delicate operation. No mistake allowed or someone dies. To his surprise, all went rather well. The knives were frightfully sharp, which helped a lot. He removed the seeds with a spoon, then filleted the wedges. When he was done, he straightened his back since the dresser was a bit too low for him. He saw the doctor busy with his own pans and ingredients. It seemed the man didn't notice him, but he knew him better than that. And indeed, Hannibal had heard him and knew exactly what he was doing, even if he couldn't see him. He heard him put down the knife after some time and walk over to the meat slicer.

.

After slicing enough ham, Barney turned off the machine and took the ham to the dresser. There he draped it over the melon on the plates. Finally, he put the plates on a serving cart. But when he was busy with the third plate, he accidentally dropped it. With a loud noise it crashed and broke into many pieces.

Barney froze in his place.

Hannibal turned around.

"There's another plate in that cabinet, Barney. There are two wedges left and there's ham enough. But don't spoil it this time, that was my only melon."

Feeling his heart beating in his neck, Barney nodded and went back to work. He was very glad when he finished the final plate.

"I'm all done, Doctor."

"Good. I'll be done in a moment also. Help yourself to some wine, it's on your left."

Barney turned and walked over to the wine cooler. He took the bottle out of the cooler and took a look at the label, but Cartizze Prosecco didn't mean much to him. He poured out half a glass and replaced the bottle. But if he had his druthers, he'd have poured a full glass and drunk it ad fundum. Or perhaps take a good pull directly from the bottle. He could use the relaxing effect of a good measure of alcohol. But he contained himself and only took a few sips.

"Will you put the wine cooler on the cart also, Barney? And four glasses?"

"Yes, Doctor."

Having done that, Barney stood and waited.

Hannibal took a final look in his pans and declared he was ready too, for now. Then he walked over to Barney, who was with his back against the dresser and didn't feel comfortable at all. The doctor halted a few inches in front of Barney, then asked Barney to follow his lead to the dining room. He took hold of the serving cart and left the kitchen with Barney in his trail.

.

Lillian was enjoying the third and last course of the dinner, an orange flavored créme brûlée. She had it before, but always vanilla flavored and less firm than this one. It was a double twist to the dessert. The orange was a nice touch that added a fresh note to the taste. She found the firmness fitting the calories involved. Seeing Hannibal perform the caramelizing at the table with a good butane torch had been a sight to remember; everything had been perfect and it could have been an evening in a Michelin-starred restaurant.

Barney surprised himself by actually being able to eat. And not a few bites, but a regular meal. And in a strange way that went beyond his conscious mind, he even dared to call the evening enjoyable. Even with the serial killer Hannibal 'The Cannibal' as chef, and former FBI-officer and - according to some - loose cannon Clarice Starling hosting. However, he kept his guard as much as possible. That's how he survived in Chilton's dungeon and that was how he was going to survive now. Be alert, be polite, be alive.

"Lillian," Clarice said, "if you like to shop, as you said..."

"I'm a bit of a shopaholic," Lillian confided casually.

"… then Buenos Aires will surely be a place to your liking. Enough to see and buy here."

"If circumstances allow, I'll make sure to do some serious shopping," Lillian said, giving her eyes all the acid intention she dared to right now, and got an appreciating smile from Clarice in return, but no reply.

Lillian had already noticed the moments of silence these two sometimes would keep. And they'd continue the conversation at a time convenient to them alone. A token that they lived in a world of their own. She couldn't get through to them. She felt the connection they had and the insurmountable wall that surrounded them. Everytime she tried to provoke some primal reaction, it turned out useless.

"Lillian," Dr. Lecter spoke, "would you like some more wine?"

"No, thank you. If I drink any more, I'll get slizzard!"

And then she registered many things at once. His eyes. The goosebumps on her arms and the chill down her spine. Barney's hands slopping in mid-air. And after that, Clarice laughing. Laughing heartily and well meant, a surprise to all at the table, even to Dr. Lecter. It took Clarice some time to recover.

"I'm so sorry, Lillian," she said, with some hiccups of laughter, "it was just hilarious to hear you say that, with your Received Pronunciation! I'm sorry."

All just sat wide-eyed, watching Clarice still giggle and snort. A few unaccountable seconds later, Lillian couldn't resist anymore and joined Clarice's merriment with a bit of laughter of her own. The doctor soon followed suit, and finally Barney too. Lillian was the first to recover.

"Maybe it's an aberrance that I have, but I am fond of using slang."

"I don't mind, Lillian, though I know others who dislike slang. It was just the combination that cracked me up," Clarice said. Her eyes joined Hannibal's and she winked at him.

"But it's no problem right now, I assure you," Clarice added.

"Barney, may I ask, did you already see the Vermeer here in Buenos Aires?" Hannibal suddenly asked.

"No, doctor, I had planned on doing that tomorrow."

"In that case... Barney, Lillian, may I suggest the following - but I honestly won't take no for an answer," Hannibal said and his eyes were all bright maroon and fierce again, "you two remain here, as our guests this night. I'll arrange for everything you'll need."

Clarice watched the couple listen to Hannibal and she took in the delicious fright she saw in Barney's face and the luscious discomfort in Lillian's. _This was going to be so much fun._

"Tomorrow, Barney, you and I are going to see that Vermeer while our ladies will honor the shops in town with their presence and humor them with their cash."

"Wonderful idea," Clarice chimed in, all smile and joy.

"Now, I suggest you three retire to the drawing room where I will provide you with coffee and tea. While you enjoy the untroubled moment and recline from the repast, I'll arrange for everything you two will need for the night."

Hannibal rose, Clarice after him. Their guests followed.

"Yes, I almost forgot," added Hannibal, "don't worry about the expenses tomorrow, _I'll spring_."

* * *

_Though many of you have suggested Hannibal and Clarice should invite only Lillian to stay with them, and see what Barney would do, I just could not get them do that. Wouldn't it have been rude? And what for - an experiment on Barney's loyalty? Which can be measured in other ways? Therefore, both of them were 'invited'. __But what's going to happen next? I'm eagerly awaiting your suggestions - just review and write what you'd like to read in the upcoming chapter!_


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 7**

Around midnight at... wherever here was. Barney didn't know but really would have liked to. All he knew was that it was the doctor and Clarice's, but when he considered everything he was sure this wasn't their _home_.

A black hole can be located through its influence on its surrounding space. This house, if it was Hannibal and Clarice's home, would most certainly have told him about its inhabitants. He was sure their lair would have their scent, that's what they would want. But here, in this house, everything he registered lacked that note. It could have been a model house, completely furnished and ready to use, but no real inhabitants. A police search would reveal nothing. Maybe only that the decoration had been well done, presumably an interior designer, and most officers would be somewhat distracted by its neatness, some even jealous of its quality, forgetting the house could be the hideaway of the most dangerous couple on earth.

And that most certainly was exactly why this house was perfect for them right now. But it wasn't _home_.

.

Barney couldn't sleep that night, of course. He truly had expected to fall asleep the moment his head would touch the pillow but found himself lying on his bed fully awake instead. The brand new pajamas the doctor had provided him with were good, better than his own - as he could have expected. He could still smell the soap he had used in the shower. The bathroom down the hall where he had showered looked like how he thought an expensive hotel room's bathroom would look. And not just one overhead nozzle that would pass his water like a baby peeing, but a good-sized one that unleashed a warm tropic rain and a whole array of smaller jet sprays directed at his torso. An oversized, white fluffy towel that made him wish all hotels would use the same laundry service as the doctor.

.

After his shower, when he walked to his own room - he smiled at the idea Lillian and he had been assigned separate rooms, apparently the doctor and Clarice were somewhat detached and prude about his relation with Lillian; but indeed, they hadn't shared a bed before - he could hear Lillian and Clarice talking and laughing in Lillian's room. Barney didn't even notice he raised an eyebrow when he heard them. He knocked on the door. He could hear Lillian coming for the door, still laughing. When she opened the door, her face was all bright and animated; a smile still lingered on her lips. Clarice was standing with her back to them, looking out of the window. He noticed these windows were barred also, just like his. He didn't remember if all the windows of the house were barred, he hadn't thought about that when they had arrived.

"I'm done showering. The bathroom is at your disposal."

"Thank you, Barney," Lillian said. She looked at him and Barney wondered what had happened to this woman. She didn't look scared at all.

"I'll be in my room," he finally said.

"All right," she replied and closed the door.

.

Barney had read a few pages of a worn specimen of the _Wizard of Oz_ which he had found in the room's closet, among other books, when he heard a knock on the door. He walked over and opened it. The doctor was standing in front of him. He took a step back and the doctor entered the room. Barney used his index finger as a bookmark. The doctor seated himself in the only chair the room contained.

"You took care of me for years, Barney. You truly were fit for the job."

Barney didn't respond, he only sat down on the bed.

The doctor didn't continue, he merely looked at Barney and smiled. Then, his stare changed and Barney saw, if only for a second, a glimpse of the _man_ the doctor was. A man, with his woman, living the life they could afford to live, on the run. Fragile. The moment passed quickly when the doctor's gaze changed again, back to the state Barney know only too well.

"Good night, Barney," the doctor said and rose.

"Good night, doctor."

.

Lying in his bed, unable to sleep, Barney started thinking. His mind had refused to think clearly from the moment he had seen the doctor and Clarice arrive at the theater. Now, it finally came to its senses and it felt his thoughts were racing, going as fast as a Formula One car.

Barney knew the doctor was at his most dangerous when he was accommodating. He had been the perfect host this evening, notwithstanding the tension his presence and his actions brought, but that was probably mostly due to Barney's background knowledge. It scared Barney shitless, now maybe even more than earlier that evening: he was at their mercy. Better said: they were at their mercy; he shouldn't forget Lillian, nor the trouble he'd brought her into.

Escape?

Was the key still in the door?

He had kept watchful all evening, trying to see if either the doctor or Clarice took the key he had seen from the door. He thought they hadn't, but with these two you never could be sure.

They had a means of escape then.

He saw only two options to get out alive. The first was they would let them go, knowing their secret was safe or knowing it didn't matter what Barney and Lillian knew. The second option was escape. A third option lingered in the back of his mind but it was quite an effort to keep it from playing the major role in his thoughts: this was all a game for them, a cat and mouse game, and Barney and Lillian would be killed in the end. No worries, no loose ends but a lot of fun.

Barney doubted the probability of the first option.

He didn't consider the third option.

Only one option left.

Escape.

But how?

When?

Now?

He needed to talk with Lillian.

Now.

.

Barney got out of bed real slowly, avoiding as much noise as possible, which was a difficult thing for a man his size. One leg out first, second one out. Use the weight of his legs to lift his body, lightly aided by one of his arms. He sat upright and waited a second.

Not a sound.

Barney rose and turned. He stole towards the door and carefully removed the chair he had wedged under the door knob. Then, he unlocked the door and opened it a fraction to see down the hall and listen.

All was quiet.

Ironically, it was the doctor's search for perfection that helped Barney. The door's hinges didn't squeak as Barney opened the door further. The floor didn't creak as Barney carefully trod upon it.

Advancing slowly but surely and soundlessly, Barney approached Lillian's room. Only three more yards to go, then he would be able to try her door. He hoped she hadn't locked her door, he was afraid he'd have to knock. He knew their hosts' room wasn't that nearby - he'd listened to the doctor's footsteps after he bade Barney goodnight. But knocking was a risk he'd rather not take.

.

With the door knob nearly within reach, his arm somewhat outstretched, Barney suddenly heard a sound and froze. His arm dropped, which he even didn't notice. Before he could say _mixed vegetables_, Clarice appeared from around the corner of the hallway, walking suavely, wearing the same clothes she'd worn during the evening, and approached the agitated big man, apparently not surprised at all to find him in the hallway in is pajamas and halted a fair distance away from him. She had an inquiring look on her face. Strangely enough, she did not seem to expect an explanation.

She almost whispered her sentence.

"You really ought to wear some socks or slippers, cold feet are very unpleasant."

Barney nodded sheepishly. He was so dumbstruck and shocked, moving felt like swimming in maple syrup.

"And by the way, the bathroom's that way," she said, pointed at the hallway behind him and smiled an uncanny grin.

Barney nodded again and turned his head, following her direction. Well, he knew where the bathroom was, of course. He turned his head back again, but Clarice was gone.

.

Returning to her own bedroom, Hannibal was waiting for her sitting at exactly the same spot on the bed where he'd been when she'd left. He also was still dressed and fully awake. Clarice approached him, he rose when her hand asked him to. She hugged him, then looked at him and smiled. A loving kiss followed.

"We can go to sleep now," she said.

"Who could sleep on a night like this?" he returned and chuckled.

"Hm, maybe you're right," she responded after a moment's thought. "Too damn warm in here, you 'gree?" and with overacted gestures and a whimsical smile, she untied the knot of the dress in her neck. The dress slid down her body almost inaudibly. That soft rustle was one of the most beautiful sounds Hannibal knew. "An' maybe you should lose your clothes too, hon'," she smiled, enjoying his response on her language. She knew her talkin' dirty always turned him on.

* * *

_A quick thank you everybody for the fabulous reviews. That's always great!_  
_But this specific story is about cooperation between you and me. Please, make a suggestion (or more than one) about what should happen in the next chapter!_  
_Will we meet them at breakfast, see how Barney will react now he's been caught?_  
_Will we skip breakfast, and follow the ladies while shopping? And will she see Barney again when they return back 'home'?_  
_Will you please tell me what to write? Of course, I can make it up myself, but that's not what this story is about - it was meant to be YOUR story!_


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 8 **

After the night's debacle, Barney had been overrun with angst and terror. Clarice's sudden appearance at that crucial moment of moments gave birth to the idea he was constantly being monitored. He was sure he was under unceasing surveillance, though not by any electrical or mechanical device - he hadn't found any and knew they wouldn't rely on such puny apparatuses - _they just knew_. They anticipated any disruptive scheme his mind might dare to harbor.

Lying on his bed, he realized that probably wasn't true. Not all of it. Barney knew it was impossible for them to completely sense everything he did. But at least they seemed to know and sense _enough_ of him to be sure of their own safety.

Then the thought struck him: if _he_ wouldn't be able to outsmart them, maybe the _two_ of them - Barney, trained by years of experience in the field, and Lillian Hersch, lecturer at London University and a theorist - could. The same idea as he had earlier that night, but more intense; he didn't need to talk with Lillian - they needed to cooperate.

And Barney decided passing her a note would be the best way right now to get things going. So, he rose from the bed and looked for a piece of paper and a pen. A quick scan of his room was all he could do silently. Unfortunately it didn't provide him with a notepad or a slip of paper. Then his eyes fell upon _Alice In Wonderland_ and he did something he normally abhorred - he decided to tear out a page and use that. There were always empty pages at the end of a book, he could use one of them. He opened the worn book and selected a page, folded it sharply near the back of the book, unfolded it and started to tear carefully. The old page was real paper; no artificial fibers, and the randomly distributed linen fibers made it easy to tear off the page nicely along the fold. His scribbled his message on the sheet.

_I think I have found a way to escape. The key was still in the back door yesterday. One of us should try to snatch it. As soon as we find a good moment alone, we can use it and flee through the garden. If not this morning, then when we return from the city. We have to escape together, I won't leave you behind!_

Barney carefully folded the sheet into a handy size and tucked it into his pants' hip pocket.

.

"Did you sleep well, Barney?" Hannibal asked, and Clarice had some trouble keeping her face straight while serving breakfast.

"Since you know when people lie, doctor, I won't bother you with the politically correct answer. No, I did not sleep well."

"I always hated it when I couldn't find my way when I was somewhere for the first time," Clarice said, glad to be out of Barney's and Lillian's sight. She sensed Barney's fright. She was really enjoying their little game of cat and mouse.

"But you know," she added, "I'm not scared anymore. When you're always on the run, nowhere's home and every night is a gift. Don't you agree, Barney, that every night we get to live, is a gift? That we should be thankful every morning, when we wake up and find we're still where we went to bed?"

"I'm not a religious guy," Barney replied.

"And I'm not that much of a religious woman," spoke Lillian, "but as I told Clarice before - I do feel every second of my life is a gift. And every second could be my last. And today is today. Tomorrow will always be tomorrow. That's what I've learned."

Clarice, still standing behind them, cast a smile at Hannibal, who faced the two. Mischief, or plain fun, was in her eyes. She walked back to the kitchen, Hannibal for a moment followed her walking, in the end he had to turn as she passed him by. With a gentle gesture, she touched his cheek.

Barney took the note from his pocked and passed it quickly over to Lillian. Their abductors seemed not to notice, and Lillian took the little piece of paper without giving away anything.

"Tell me, Barney," said the doctor while turning around, causing the big fellow another surge of nausea that threatened to spoil everybody's breakfast, "What Vermeers have you already seen?"

"Ah... well... hm, doctor... ah... let me see. I first visited the paintings that were close by. So I went to the Met and the Frick Collection in New York. Next stop was... eh... The National Gallery of Art in Washington, DC..."

"The attribution to Vermeer of two of the paintings there is questioned," the doctor interrupted him.

"That's what I learned."

"And what do you believe?"

"Mh... The Girl with a Flute doesn't feel Vermeer to me. But I'm not an expert, doctor."

"No, you are not indeed," Hannibal confirmed, "But I agree with you on the paintings. And then? Was South America next, or did you visit Europe first? Most of his work can be found in the Old World."

"Aeee!" Lillian shouted and she rose. She had tipped over her cup of tea, there was jam on her left hand.

Barney saw she was fine, the tea hadn't reached or burned her. Lillian looked up at Clarice and Hannibal.

"Do you want me to help you, or can you manage?" Clarice asked politely.

"Eh.. I think I'll be fine. I just need to wash my hands. I'll be back in a minute."

Lillian walked away while Clarice took care of the mess.

"Well Barney, where did you go next?"

"Eh... Europe, doctor. I... eh... went to London first and met Lillian there. We decided to travel together, first visited Scotland and Ireland for my Vermeers, then went to South America for Lillian. I guessed I could just as well visit the Vermeer out on loan there first."

"Such a shame you didn't visit The Netherlands. If you really want to know someone, you should visit his homeland. You have to learn where and how he lived. Delft really is a charming town, in spite of all the bicycles."

While they talked, Barney ate the sturdy breakfast his 'hosts' had prepared for him. He wasn't really a breakfast lover, he usually just gobbled up his cereal and would leisurely eat a huge lunch instead. The hotels he had visited so far always provided buffet breakfast, which allowed him to do as usual. But this morning, he had been confronted with a continental breakfast. Maybe not as intense as the English breakfast Lillian once bought him in a greasy spoon (he still had digestive issues when thinking of the black pudding they'd served him) but nevertheless a breakfast he had trouble with eating.

Lillian returned and took her seat again, then ate the rest of her breakfast with taste. She didn't look at Barney. But after breakfast, with a visit to the rest room as an excuse, Barney found the key was no longer in the back door...

.

They really are careful. This small walk will keep the driver from knowing where they live. And after the elaborate drive we won't be able to tell where we've been. I wonder if Barney has planned more than what's in the note, I wouldn't really call his scribblings an escape plan, but we'll see what's on his mind when we return.

It's easy getting used to being driven in such a car. Second time for me now, but I'm quite comfortable. My own Vauxhall is no match for this limousine.

It really is a good time of day to be driving around. Sun is up at a nice angle, traffic's not too bad. Buenos Aires is a wonderful town. What will Clarice have in store for me? Ha ha! And what stores shall we visit? I can't wait to see. Hannibal said he'd _spring_.

.

I'm sure Barney would have liked to speak to me, but there wasn't an appropriate moment. I just know he wanted to. But in his note he mentioned returning from the city, then we'd see. Well, we'll just see then, won't we?

Just dropped off Hannibal and Barney. Clarice told the driver to drop us off at Plaza San Martin.

"What's your fancy?"

I'm not sure what to answer.

"Where would you like to go?"

I tell her it really doesn't matter. I like just strolling about, going here, going there. I don't know what shops I should visit here.

"Then we'll just go and see."

I nod in agreement and smile.

.

She told me Calle Florida, or Florida Street, is the best street to start our day. An elegant street, almost completely pedestrianized. Just over half a mile long, she said. It's very crowded right now. The good weather, I guess.

Clarice walks at my side, she took me by the arm. Maybe to guide me, maybe to make sure we don't get separated.

"It is such a shame Harrods is closed. I'm sure you would have liked it."

I agree with her, I would have. It's a nice building, just like Harrods in London. I can't imagine a Harrods being closed down.

"Me neither. 80,000 visitors a day and still they had to close down. A shame."

.

Next block will be much to my liking, she assures me. The Galerías Pacífico, a shopping center, a shopping arcade, to be exact. And she's right. A sight for sore eyes. Amazing! They even have frescoes in the cupola, a feast for the eyes. I could spend a day here. Maybe we will, I don't know.

I'm not sure how many shops there are here - way too many to remember. All these high-end shops - I've seen Christian Lacroix, Dior, Hugo Boss - even better, we went inside and shopped! Hannibal kept his word I guess since Clarice bought me some very nice things. I love it! It's really nice to do some serious shopping with her, and not just because of the things she bought me. She's pleasant company.

.

"The building has a grim past, Lillian."

I look up from my tea and club sandwich. What does she mean?

"When they were shooting a film in the basement in 1987, they stumbled on an abandoned torture center. It was soon discovered it had been used by the military junta. Here, they kept their opponents and tortured them. The walls still bore the desperate markings of the prisoners, all dead now: names, dates, and so forth."

That's horrible.

"One death is a tragedy. A million deaths is just a statistic."

Isn't that a quote from Stalin?

"As a matter of fact, it isn't. But many attribute it to him."

I don't really think it's an appropriate quote to use here.

"That depends on your point of view. The junta didn't mind. The people did. Eye of the beholder. Do _you_ always express only your own opinion?"

She smiles, a smile that shows me it's okay. I return the smile, we finish our lunch.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 9**

According to the customary safety measure, Hannibal had them dropped off at some distance. Not only did this prevent being followed - it was easier studying and scanning the surroundings for possible threats while on foot than in a moving car - it also allowed him to act as if his life was as ordinary as any other man's. He could blend into the crowd, go unnoticed, live his life without disturbance. The luxurious vehicle was most pleasant to be driven in, but rather conspicuous. Going by foot, man's primary means of transport, was the key to an unencumbered life. Keeping low-profile was the way for Hannibal and Clarice to live. Every luxury they allowed themselves could lead their pursuers to them, as it had lead Clarice. Pros and cons had to be weighed every time they allowed themselves some fancy.

Luckily, most items could be obtained via stooges. And Hannibal and Clarice used several of their fake identities solely for these purposes. It was impossible for anybody to connect all these links into one chain. Clarice's practical knowledge in the area of 'catching a crook' was of great use in their shared life.

It was the outings and the social events that held the greatest risks for them. Even with all the plastic surgery they had allowed themselves, there always was the chance of a too inquisitive paparazzi photographer or tabloid journalist. It was a fine balance between enjoying life's gratifying opportunities and responsible pleasure they were walking, and they proceeded with caution, with reason.

.

The Buenos Aires House of Culture was the kind of outing that was nearly without hazard, even with the unprecedented exhibition it currently held. Truly, Buenos Aires is called the South American Paris for a good reason, among which this former headquarters of the newspaper La Prensa. With a facade inspired by French architect Charles Garnier, it breathes love for life. The passageway that connects it with the City Hall has been transformed into the Ana Díaz Salon. Art exhibits are hosted here, this time a most exquisite collection of fine masterpieces from the world's most famous painters. Pièce de résistance of the exhibition: The Girl with a Pearl Earring by Johannes Vermeer - Barney's only reason to visit the Salon. But he would admit later he had enjoyed more of the displayed works.

.

"I just finished Tracy Chevalier's book," Barney spoke while they queued at the entrance.

"What book would that be, Barney?"

"Girl with a Pearl Earring," the big man replied, somewhat amazed by the doctor's ignorance.

"Enlighten me."

"Eh.. it's historical fiction, the writer was inspired by the expression of the girl in the painting. She basically tells us the girl Vermeer painted was his maid servant. That's the fictional part. You know, she did a lot of research, but had to fill the unknown parts in Vermeer's life herself. His life isn't well documented, he wasn't that famous or well known outside of Delft."

The silence from the doctor was telling enough for Barney.

"I guess..."

"No, Barney, not a guess. You know for sure it's not the kind of book I normally read. But I don't mind you read it."

They had reached the counter, the doctor paid for their tickets. They entered.

"I like such books, doctor. A good story combined with historical events or figures," Barney continued.

"But history always comes second. If some fact doesn't comply with the plot, history's changed to fit. And you do realize most people don't recognize these changes and actually believe the altered history to be true?"

"Yes, but nobody's responsible for that. It's not the writer's or my fault. Ignorance is universal. That's what you taught me."

"Among others."

"Yes."

"It really is a shame you didn't visit Delft first."

"I may have enough money to see every Vermeer in the world, but not enough to spend it carelessly, doctor."

"Money should never be spent carelessly."

"I mean, it's enough to fulfill my fantasy, but not much more than that. This detour to South America was possible, but that's it."

"Don't forget the Mauritshuis houses two more Vermeer paintings."

"I won't, doctor."

And Barney registered these last words implied he just might get out of this alive.

.

As was often the case, Hannibal found watching the crowds at the exposition a much more pleasant way to spend time than actually looking at the exposed objects. So many facial expressions, body language and telling smells that spoke volumes to him. He didn't care to see if the painter was left of right handed, or if a small or broad brush was used, or what other petty details some liked to focus on, he knew the best works of art were the product of the maker and not the materials. Painting a canvas with a paint roller, or even just throwing the paint, could still be an acceptable work of art as long as the artist truly had a reason to do it.

All the layers that can be found in art were what interested him most. Paintings are, simply said, dyes and binding agent and solvents. Not only the placement on the canvas was a layer that added meaning, whether figurative or abstract - the artist's story was just as important. _Why_ did he paint it? What was the process that lead to painting two black lines? Or an army whose lances were slightly erratic? To him, the technique was not a layer that added meaning, it was merely a way for others to tell if the painting was truly done by the artist, a way of authentication. Only a unique trait, a possible quality, not something that defined the painting and its meaning.

As he had witnessed many times before, people would most often react to art in two ways. They would turn very grave and silent, or they would get giddy, talkative, impulsive. Barney was of the first type, the least interesting group for Hannibal to observe. Luckily, there were enough other spectators who were of the second type. Emotions normally kept under control were now displayed as though those people believed their own persons to be the true _objets d'art_ of the display. Extrovert, showy, exhibitionistic people. Some combined this need to show oneself off and a despicable, dreadful character. Many of Hannibal's victims had suffered from this combination.

.

"A seemingly ordinary man capable of the extraordinary," Barney spoke and faced the doctor.

"Yes, that's what I said," he replied, awaiting Barney's further words.

"And you implied this applied to me also."

"Correct."

"A great compliment, doctor. But I'm not good at receiving compliments. Saying 'thank you' wasn't difficult and I meant it. But I was just doing my job."

"Were you? And was that all the compliment implied - that you did your job conscientiously?"

"I think I did my job as the job should be done. If everybody would be praised for doing the job as it should be done, what use would it have?"

"Your definition devalues my compliment," Hannibal said.

A moment of serious thought before Barney replied.

"I guess it does. If you or someone else chooses to compliment me, I should accept it at face value. I'm sorry."

"That's okay, Barney. We've had many conversations but you haven't fully realized your potential yet."

And again Barney registered the implication of the doctor's words.

.

After the Salon, the doctor took Barney for a stroll around town. The doctor never killed time and this wasn't the moment for further advancement for Barney so he settled for some small talk with the big man, getting him to relax further. He was still very nervous and the doctor couldn't really blame him for it - the situation was beyond doubt very awkward and frightening for Barney.

They drank some iced tea, the doctor had some _morcillas_ and Barney some _empanadas_.

One circumstance that didn't contribute to Barney's welfare was the atmosphere that enveloped Buenos Aires right then. The doctor could see the specific combination of temperature and humidity wasn't doing him well. Barney's breathing was short and a film of sweat covered his skin everywhere. He had to wipe his forehead often to get rid of drops.

The end of their time together came closer as they sat on one of Buenos Aires' many sidewalk cafes, enjoying a cup of espresso. By this time, Barney was starting to feel comfortable and relaxed - how impossible that had seemed 24 hours ago! He was starting to believe it all came down to a very serious prank. The doctor and Clarice had always treated him right and professionally, it had never been personal or insulting. Maybe they were just playing around with the two of them.

The bill was brought after the doctor had given the waitress a sign. The doctor paid. Barney was sure a nice tip was included, the woman obviously liked her work a lot, it showed in her whole demeanor.

"By the way, Barney," the doctor spoke, "I believe you were looking for this?"

He held up a key for Barney to see. No doubt - it was the key to the back door. Barney's vision diminished until he only saw the key, his hearing was completely impaired for anything new, he only heard the doctor's last words over and over again. His mind went completely blank. Time went out of phase for him also, disabling the ability to tell how long he remained in this state. Was this what dying felt like?

The doctor's voice was in his head. Other words this time.

"Barney, it's time to go."

He saw the doctor, standing now. He had lowered his hand with the key.

"Lillian and Clarice are waiting for us," the doctor continued and nodded into the distance. Then he stretched out his hand and waited until Barney held up his. The key was dropped into Barney's sweaty palm. Barney looked at it and closed his hand over it after a while.

"It's a nice garden, you really should see it later on," Hannibal said, "but such a shame we had to put in a fence against people sneaking in or out."

Then he took a step away from the table and waited shortly. Barney did not understand how, but he rose and didn't drop down dead.

The doctor started to walk. Barney realized he could simply walk the other way and leave. He looked at the doctor, in the distance he could see the car waiting with Lillian and Clarice.

He started to walk and after a few steps he was back at the doctor's side.

He could never leave Lillian or anyone behind.

A Marine never retreats.

* * *

_So, this is where we are now. A chapter with Hannibal and Barney could not be evaded - I wouldn't have wanted to, either. But where do we go from here? You know you have a voice here..._  
_What's the next step in Hannibal and Clarice's game? Will they act instead of merely react as they have done? Where are they going now? What is Barney going to do? What about Lillian?_  
_Suggestions, please, because that's what drives this fanfic. And I wish to thank all reviewers and suggestors for their contribution so far._


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 10**

"_Claro,_" said the waiter and left the party alone in their secluded corner of the fairly gaunt restaurant that Clarice had chosen for dinner, mostly because of its original hors d'oeuvres. And, being somewhat regular customers, the chef often personally presented them an innovative amuse-bouche, allowing her to explore and expand the reach of her taste buds and delighting the man that often accompanied her. They were entertaining guests and generous tippers.

**.**

"Yesterday was an emotional roller-coaster," Lillian started bluntly, "Barney's odd behavior and the way things started out. Frightening. It felt like the desert - my tongue cleaved to my jaws."

Hannibal listened with interest to her words though Lillian had primarily addressed Clarice.

Barney sat and listened intensely - what was Lillian up to? He hadn't really spoken with her yet. He didn't know what she was up to and she didn't know what he was up to. What were her thoughts on not finding the key in the lock?

"Surprise as I was invited to get into the limo. Curiosity and worry got the best of me there."

Barney was touched that she cared enough for him in two weeks time to do as she did.

"Finding myself confronted with strangers and actions that I could not relate to. Being treated to a fine dinner. I really thought I was dreaming!"

Clarice smiled and nodded, encouraging Lillian to proceed. Barney felt she already foresaw what Lillian was going to say or do. And he could feel the doctor's gaze wandering about the company. His listening, registering, thinking and scheming, which the man undoubtedly was doing, very much resembled a fog for its resilience.

"I dreamed a strange dream last night. It felt like a movie from David Lynch, where everything is normal and then again not," Lillian continued after a nip of her sherry.

Clarice was following Lillian's narrative with apparent interest.

"A dream that haunts you after awakening, while normal dreams slip away from your memory, never to be remembered. Where things don't go as they normally go. Walking is impossible, the air is keeping you from progressing. Houses look ordinary, but once inside everything's different and nothing fits. Keys disappear. You don't know what to do or where to go."

Barney stared at Lillian and didn't miss a word she said.

"And today was a treat! I don't know what to think or expect anymore. What's next? I've lost control and am unable to even remotely suspect what's next. Where will I be in an hour? I might still be sitting here, having an exquisite dinner, or I might be lying somewhere dead, a few pounds less on my frame. Which, by the way, I normally wouldn't mind at all, if you know what I mean..."

Perhaps it was a bad joke, a premature child conceived by her mental stress, but in some inconceivable way the joke amused the doctor and he smiled as Lillian looked at him.

"Touché, my dear," he said and actually laughed, but cut it short as he noticed the chef approaching, the waiter in his wake. The latter carried a stack of four small plates and placed one in front of every guest. The chef then presented his amuse-bouche for the evening and placed one of the tiny Asian bamboo steamers on each plate. Inside each one was one Cantonese siumai, the steam loading the air with the delightful scent of the delicacy. Mischievously keeping the course a secret, and wishing to put their senses at work, the chef bowed courteously and left, the waiter again in his wake.

They all took their time to savor the steaming siumai in silence. A complex and pleasant composition of flavors presented itself to them.

Hannibal took a sip of his water and addressed Lillian again.

"But isn't that the big question that haunts us every second of our life? As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more."

"Amen," Barney said.

Clarice weighed Lillian's current words against those of yesterday evening. Lillian had been so at peace then with the concept of unexpected death. _Now_ was all that mattered, she had said. But now Lillian appeared to denounce that earlier held axiom. She worried. Why? Was she dangerously capricious? A threat after all?

"I'd say, Lillian," Hannibal said softly but with authority, "you probably re-lived the heart attack you suffered ten years ago in your dream?"

Lillian looked at him with big eyes, too shocked to answer. But for Clarice, windows aligned again immediately. She looked at Lillian and watched her chew on Hannibal's words. And sooner than she'd expected, she saw the spark of recognition in Lillian's eyes.

"I understand," Lillian then said. A small silence followed that in a normal conversation would have suggested an awkward moment, but right now it was a silence of compassion and understanding.

"You know, Barney," said the doctor then, "this is an exceptional situation we all have found ourselves in. Let's make use of that right now, and be frank."

Barney stared at the doctor in wide-eyed amazement for his words.

"Yes, Barney, I can be frank. I'm only human after all," added the doctor, merriment evident.

"I was aware of your humanity, doctor," Barney said.

Hannibal nodded, then spoke again.

"And are you aware of your own capacities, Barney? As I recall, you have an LPN, bachelor's degree in the humanities and a certificate of attendance from the Cummins School of Mortuary. Science. Perhaps you've added something to that list lately? No? That's fine.

Besides that, you've had me around for a few years, and survived. Many people will tell you that's quite a miracle."

Hannibal's glee showed in his smile for an instant, long enough for Barney to register.

"You did well in the State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, even if some of its inhabitants belonged somewhere else and you had to do with whoever came along. And I could tell you this a thousand times, and others with me, and we could say all we want about your excellent social behavior, but what would be the purpose of that if you keep denying this for yourself? There's only one step you need to take, Barney. Agree with the fact you've reached a very respectable level of mind. That's all.

Your traveling companion has accepted who she is and what her capabilities are. Maybe there sometimes are relapses, as you've noticed. Setbacks allow us a better look on the road ahead."

Clarice loved Hannibal for his approach here, showing his human side, the side of him people might call his vulnerable one. Hannibal had never denied being human but people sometimes considered him not as a way to quantify his uniqueness they did not comprehend.

Lillian had cast her eyes down for a short time when Hannibal spoke of her short setback, but regained her composure soon after. She knew Hannibal was right. Barney was a good man. All he needed was already there, he needed no improvement. Only acceptance of himself by himself.

"A damn bunch of improvement," Clarice said, "not always easy, but necessary if we wish to accept who we are. Even if this sounds contradictory."

Barney nodded in approval after a moment's thought.

"It all has been one big bad rush so far, a trip down Angst Boulevard. But now I find myself at a marvelous restaurant having dinner, hearing the only person I know who knows more about a person than the person himself, tell me I'm actually quite a nice guy and that I should believe that myself too. I think I can handle that," he said with an actual grin on his face.

The company shared laughter over Barney's words.

.

They gently strolled the streets of Buenos Aires. A splendid meal deserves time and patience, a relaxed walk was a good way of securing that. Normally. Because a few streets away from the restaurant, they heard screaming and yelling from the alley they passed by. A quick look told them a mugging was taking place.

Clarice was the first to respond, she started off in a quick run. Barney was second to follow. When Lillian saw the two of them run, she didn't think twice but followed them at once. Hannibal had kept alert and saw he could close ranks now.

As an experienced runner, it was inevitable Clarice was first to reach the crime scene. She focused on the mugger closest to the victim - the obvious target for her. Her eyes caught his response to the approaching footsteps, she saw him turning towards her, knife still in his hands, the guy in front of him sinking to the ground. With a swiftness that can only be achieved with years of intensive training, Clarice jumped and kicked the knife out of his hands, flying past him while an iron fist struck him in the neck. Without a sound, he twisted around, a consecutive kick on his kidneys finished the job and he sank to the ground.

Barney wasn't much of a runner, Lillian and the doctor had overtaken him and when he saw them heading for the second mugger who was already running away, he decided to check on the victim. The moment he could decently see the guy Barney was sure he was already dead. No blood ran from the wounds on his body, a quick and dirty death. He looked up and saw Lillian and Hannibal facing the remaining perpetrator who had turned around and to his intense worry and frustration it was Lillian who was closest to him. He was trying to scare them, holding his knife and slashing the air with it.

_Get out of there, Lillian - let Hannibal take care of him!_

She did not back off, even took a step forward. The man lunged at her, but she gripped his wrist and pulled him forward, out of balance, and landed her knee in his stomach. A twist on his arm and the knife was no longer in the man's hand. He fell down heavily on his face.

His eyes caught Clarice's and in silent understanding, they ran to the others.

"His friend won't hurt anybody ever again," Clarice stated, hardly out of breath.

Barney had to get a few breaths of air first.

"Then the guy they were mugging is the last one he killed," he stammered.

The words hung almost tangible in the air. No further conversation followed for some time, the only real sound then the groaning of the second thug on the ground.

Barney looked at Lillian, who still was closest to the man. She stood up straight, not nervous at all, almost at ease. Hannibal just behind her. Clarice further to the left, also motionless. Then Barney saw Hannibal's swift movements and there he stood next to Lillian, reaching out his arm towards her, offering her something. Barney looked and saw one mean knife in the doctor's hand. Lillian looked down at Hannibal's hand and slowly reached for the thing. Barney experienced time changing, stretching out, and witnessed the exchange of the knife in slow motion. Lillian turned it around and held it properly in her hand then and looked at the blade that could cause pain and death.


	12. Chapter 12

_After a week of holiday without computer & internet and some writer's block, I'm glad to be able to post this next chapter._  
_Another big thanks and hug to cyberbuddy Duffie for all the beta-ing!_

* * *

**Chapter 11**

Barney, in his current state of stretched out consciousness, perceived minute details he could envision again later by just closing his eyes and thinking about that moment, etched into his retina as they were.

His eyes were at first fixed on Lillian's face. The strange calmness that inhabited her features was unnerving to him from the beginning. It sent alien shivers down his spine. Her eyes remained focused on the knife, seemingly for hours, yet she did not move. Her eyes only slowly strayed off the knife and met the mugger's, but still Barney could not make out what was on her mind. Was she indecisive? Thinking about using the knife on their abductors, even when she knew the chance of success was only minimal, probably even nonexistent? Or was she imagining the best way to use or plant the knife?

A slight inclination of her head as she kept looking at the man, who was slowly recovering from what had happened to him. Not an inclination to the side as if pondering, but an inclination forward. Of resignation? Resignation - to kill? Or to let him be?

The man slowly moved one of his legs into a more comfortable position, also a position in which he could get up more easily. If Lillian wouldn't make her move soon, he knew the man would. And, consecutively, the doctor would. The man would not survive, that was sure.

Yes, Barney could see the man believed he could attempt an escape. The building of tension in his muscles was evident. He'd have to get past Lillian first, then he could run for his life. Barney was sure Lillian could see it too. But with cold certitude he arrived at the inevitable conclusion: she was not going to kill him.

Old behavior took over at that moment, accustomed actions and movements from years ago determined the course of action. The conscious mind no longer in control over his massive body, yet he was fully aware of everything that happened and he never afterward regretted that he stepped forward past the others, stooped down and grabbed the man by his collar, lifted him from the ground and smacked him into the wall with such a force that the man's breath was blown from his lungs, forced his right hand around the man's throat and tightened his grip with the destructive power and might that was in his muscles and squeezed as if he was trying to crack a walnut with his bare hand. The mugger's eyes grew wide as he tried to scream, but could not. Pain was discernible in his features. It was only a matter of seconds before life started slipping away from him. His tongue protruded in a hideous way, his face bore an expression of extreme fear. His arms and legs shuddered a final time and then all Barney held to the wall were limp remains. He let go and the body slumped softly to the ground.

.

Time's elastic band was unstretching; the slow motion sensation he had experienced was quickly dissipating, life was regaining its regular pace.

As Barney turned around, he saw Clarice standing next to Hannibal, holding his arm with her hands. She looked giddy, strangely enough.

Lillian was only two steps away physically but he expected her to be mentally remote and distant. Especially to him. He had killed just now and she had witnessed his deed. Being in the presence of someone more famous for his killings than his creations was one thing - standing next to someone who has just killed is another realm. Now, Barney was at a loss for words and did not know what to do. He believed anything he did would only drive her away from him, let her decide the next step.

The silence of the three dead bodies hung in the air. Barney could hear his own breathing. He was slightly out of breath but couldn't say if it was the exertion or the excitation.

Lillian was as immobile now as with the mugger and Barney had great trouble reading her face. Shock, for sure, but that was merely her current state. He could not say what her course of action would be.

Barney waited for some time more, but a fragment before the moment arrived where he would have no alternative but to act regardless of Lillian's state, Clarice took the initiative.

Letting go of Hannibal, she walked with confident stride towards the tentative Lillian. The movement broke the spell, Lillian looked up at Clarice and smiled hesitatingly. Clarice stood next to the much tried woman and put an arm around her. Slowly, they turned and moved away from the murder scene.

Barney suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder, he jumped and saw it was the doctor's. He was excited, angry, frustrated and resentment filled his thoughts. This was not Barney's best moment.

He had committed a murder.

He had committed _another_ murder.

Damn.

"Another one bites the dust," he finally said, not particularly meant for the doctor.

"Screw everybody..." he said shortly after, and walked off.

The doctor watched the big man stride cumbersomely. He took his cell phone, turned it on, dialed a number and gave some concise instructions.

.

Clarice was exhilarated. She'd seen Barney squeeze the life out of that bastard and enjoyed every second of it. She had overcome her previous restrictions when it came to killing years ago - in fact, not long after she had offered Hannibal a drop of wine.

It was a matter of time for her to fully understand and accept the difference between taking out mankind's garbage as ordered while with the FBI, and judging for herself if some trash needed removal. Once she saw the FBI sometimes - or maybe even often - chose to walk another way than Lady Justice and denounced the bureau's ethics, she was able to take the next step: follow her own sense of right and wrong. She realized her own values were authentic, proven right over time and societies and handed down generation after generation. She shared her father's convictions and found them to be true.

On this foundation, Clarice built a solid structure of acceptable actions. If she knew her own judgment to be correct, she could accept judging for herself. If she could and would have to judge, she would also have to perform the next link in the chain of justice: sentencing. She could do that - she already had before.

And the final step, the last link on this normally precarious chain, was taken with as much assurance and firmness as the others. She would penalize too.

She had become all: officer, judge, juror and executioner.

.

Yet, there was more.

Clarice had not only accepted justified killing as an acceptable fact of life, she had learned to enjoy the concept. Of course, she did not enjoy the killing itself - taking someone's life remained a nasty business. But knowing that, with taking that life, the removal of some low-life vermin from this earth, she had ensured the welfare of other people, was what delighted her. It was a concept she knew most people would not comprehend, let alone accept. The only person she could share this with was - of course - Hannibal. He walked next to her, sometimes merely followed her, on this path she had chosen.

.

The drive back was spent in silence. Hannibal and Clarice knew the fragile state of mind of their guests, it was best to wait until they were back in the house. So they watched Buenos Aires as it passed by, comfortably seated. Barney did the same, he watched the city, but with distant eyes. Lillian kept staring at her hands, sometimes a quick glimpse of the world outside, hardly ever at the others.

.

They all could smell the delicious aromas as they entered the house. In an immediate response, Barney's stomach growled deeply. He looked at the others and blushed.

"We called a caterer," Clarice clarified. "Come, the appetizers should be waiting for us."

Barney and Lillian followed Clarice to the dining room, while Hannibal went shortly into the kitchen.

"What can I get you?" Clarice asked.

"The amontillado, please," Lillian answered.

"A coke. Diet, if you have," Barney stated.

Clarice nodded and got some glasses from the glass case. She poured a stiff sherry for Lillian and dove into the fridge for Barney. With two filled glasses, Clarice went over to her guests and gave each his own. Then she returned for a drink of her own. Nothing wrong with a sherry, she mused, and got another sherry glass.

Clarice sat down on the other couch, as Lillian and Barney had chosen to sit next to each other.

"That's good," she thought.

"Hannibal is conferring with the caterer, he'll be joining us in a second," she said.

Lillian and Barney, who both seemed to be studying the carpet, looked up. Lillian smiled, Barney acknowledged with a nod.

"Lillian, there's more to you than meets the eye," the distinct voice of Hannibal carried through the room.

The two traveling companions turned their heads towards the voice in unison.

* * *

_I'm sure this chapter had enough surprise at the beginning, a nice twist to the story._  
_The last paragraph gives you, my dearest reader and contributor, enough possibilities for great suggestions. _  
_Please, review and tell me what you would like to see happen next - all suggestions will be considered seriously._


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 12**

"Barney really hit the jackpot with you," Hannibal continued while he walked over to the couch where Clarice sat, holding a glass of red wine in his one hand, a plate with some small appetizers in his other. He smiled at Clarice, who returned the smile, then he took his place next to her.

"Be my guests and have a bite," he said.

Then he pointed his words at Barney.

"My dear Barney, you just don't know how much you two have in common. Yet, that is."

He pointed his eyes at the big man but kept his piercing gaze in check, not wanting to scare him off.

"And you have your differences. Lillian has been very cooperative with us. More than you expect, Barney, and more than you have been. No, I'm not disappointed in you, it was to be expected. You're still tied to your principles, even when you know they aren't applicable to the situation you're in. But it has given us a few moments of glee, actually, watching your futile attempts at escape."

Barney turned to take a look at Lillian when Hannibal mentioned she'd been cooperative.

_What the hell?_

Lillian looked at him with her dark blue eyes and he could see the mischievous glint in them. She took one of the appetizers to avoid his gaze.

Hannibal spoke again, he turned his face towards the man who'd been his to take care of for years.

"Yes, Lillian has played her part in our scheme perfectly. I must admit it we feared you'd suspect some foul play when you came over to Lillian's room from your shower, when you found Clarice with her. It was there and then that Lillian agreed to cooperate with us."

Lillian put her hand on Barney's knee and pressed it.

"I'm sorry Barney," she said, "Maybe it's my strange academic sense of humor, maybe it's the situation, but after dinner, when Clarice visited with me, I knew all was well, would be well and that we could use the situation to pull you a prank. You sometimes are more the stiff Briton than I am, Barney. You really need to lighten up a bit."

"A prank?" Barney parroted.

"Yes, Barney," Hannibal said, "A prank. Yet, sometimes it seemed the prank was on us. Your nightly visit was unexpected, I confess, but I'm sure Clarice scared you quite a bit, didn't she? She can play a perfect ice queen."

Clarice thumped him on his arm with mock indignation.

"Ah well," she sighed, "maybe I can. Well, we had expected the note, Barney. And we knew you'd seen the key. So we took the key from the door, and pretended Lillian took it."

"It was clear you'd never leave me behind," said Lillian, "You are a caring person, Barney. And every time my safety seemed to be compromised, you showed your concern."

"It's only too bad we didn't get to see your face when Hannibal showed you the key!" Clarice chimed and laughed.

Barney could also hear Lillian laugh softly, the doctor kept himself impervious.

Their laughter was terribly awkward for Barney, it felt like they were making fun of him. And he had hated that ever since he went to school. He could still remember those kids running around him, teasing him, calling him names.

_Barbie._

_Barney Fartney._

How he had hated them.

For years they had bothered him, plagued him, taunted him. For years he endured it. Until that one day where Freddy had gone too far. Barney would have managed any personal insult. But they had started to take on his little sister as well. And with that, they crossed a border.

Freddy found it entertaining to creep up from behind and kick Barney's butt, that day he went for Chloe. Barney saw him, watched him kick before he could prevent it, and raced over. They believed Barney to be not that strong, but people manage the unachievable in rage. Freddy suddenly felt someone grip him by his belt and a second later, his feet were dangling in the air. The world turned upside down and the wall crashed into his back, blowing the breath from his lungs, and he passed out.

Barney could still feel the exhilaration of that moment, but also the shame when his mother came to take him home from school and the drum solo his father performed on his bottom.

Hannibal Lecter was registering all of Barney's emotions. He knew the man's sensitivity and knew they'd arrived at the point they should not cross.

"Barney," he said in the gentlest way possible.

The big man was raised from his reverie by the sound of the voice.

"Strange how, even with meticulous planning, things can work out completely different. What happened after dinner was not intended."

Barney thought a few moments, then nodded.

"I think I'll have a bite now," he said softly.

Hannibal waved his hand in merry accordance.

"You once shared with me in the dungeon how it came to happen that you left the Marine Corps."

"Uhuh," Barney acknowledged carefully, curious and a bit afraid what might follow.

"Don't worry, Barney. Lillian won't mind. You know, _she once killed someone too... _That's what you two have in common, as mentioned. And that's what _we all_ have in common... We are all _murderers_."

* * *

_Demeter, I loved your suggestions for this chapter, they are enough to grow into a chapter or two more, but it was my hope more readers than just you would make suggestions. So, all my readers, even though I do not like to write this (reading such announcements in other fanfics normally makes me rather aggressive), I must ask you to please review and tell me what you'd like to happen. That was and is the idea of this fanfic: an experiment for both me and you. I did not work out a plot before writing chapters and you are able to steer the story._  
_No input - no more chapters. It's that simple._


	14. Chapter 14

_Many people agree with me that the number of reviews you get on is rather low. Which is not good if you're trying to write a fanfic, depending on input from first part I posted was clearly an invitation to participate in this project, in order to create new chapters... _

_There have been very loyal readers, who have suggested great plot development, and there have been readers who forgot to review and suggest. Sometimes being a number in the stats does count, in this case, not quite so._

_Some readers could have carried the process by themselves, but that was not the full intention of this fanfic. I thank them for their input and hope they'll forgive me this final chapter._

* * *

**Chapter 13**

"We're all murderers, Barney," Hannibal repeated after perhaps one minute of silence.

"You could say we are a kind of _club_, Barney," Lillian said and smiled.

Barney had, at some moments during the day, started to feel... at ease, he might have said. But right now, he was growing less comfortable by the minute. A feeling slowly stalked its way into his brain.

_This is it, Barney. They're done making fun. And when the fun is over, the hangover is just around the corner, ready to appear_.

He could feel the heat rising behind his collar, and a film of sweat on his forearms. And he knew the doctor sensed it, too.

"Barney," Clarice said softly.

He turned his face towards her. Her whole countenance was gentle, yet he knew there was more than meets the eye with this woman, Hannibal's companion, his accomplice. The change she'd undergone since the last time he'd seen her before her disappearance came to mind.

_She's no longer Clarice Starling. She's more than that, or someone - or something - else._

"There's only so much fun you can have when you're a fugitive and wish to remain so," she said.

Then, she sighed and her face changed expression.

"Ah well, screw it, Hannibal. I've had enough of this," she said in an icy tone.

Barney noticed she didn't look at Hannibal, she wasn't asking for his consent. She merely stated what she felt. Barney realized he was at her mercy and he wasn't sure if he was going to like what this Clarice - the Clarice he no longer knew or understood - would do now.

"I'll cut to the chase, Barney," she addressed him once more. "Lillian didn't voluntarily agree on cooperating with us. Yesterday evening, I hypnotized Lillian. My first attempt at it, and I'd say I was successful. Look at her. No, look at her. We're talking about her, and all she does is stare at us blissfully. Last night, I questioned her and learned a lot about you and her. That done, I devised a plan and instructed her. She's my guinea pig."

Barney shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"So, in fact, the Lillian you saw today was not completely the Lillian you knew. Well, part of it was - she did kill someone many years ago. Hm, again I see you didn't know that. Well, it is true, big boy. And it wasn't in self defense."

Barney looked at Lillian, but all she did was return his look with a friendly, but blank stare, which he would have mistaken for agreement, had he not been told she was under hypnosis.

"And we're quite familiar with other demons from her past, I assure you. So, at that unexpected incident after dinner, we really thought she would kill that guy herself. Just like in her youth, when she started to kill. It was really interesting to watch her at that moment."

Barney had another look at Lillian, and saw a slight change in her. A few drops of sweat were on her brow. Hell, he had a few of those himself, too.

"But I think the time has come for this experiment to end. It's been nice, but time's up, I see. Starting to feel dizzy, Barney? Lillian?"

Barney was indeed starting to feel dizzy. Was it that obvious? A look at Lillian told him she was disorientated also.

_What the hell?_

"The drug I put in your drinks is starting to work. The time has come for us to part."

Clarice rose from her place. Barney's gut told him he should run, but his body failed to respond to the thought. He looked up at Clarice, who slowly approached Lillian. In the corner of his eye, he saw movement from Dr. Lecter. He turned his head while his vision started to blur.

The man many people knew only as 'Hannibal the Cannibal' was approaching him.

Dr. Lecter's tongue shortly appeared, as if acting on its own, and touched the upper lip for an instant. Dr. Lecter opened his mouth. A smile, or something else?

Barney's vision really started to blur.

A sound from his left.

_Lillian!_

He turned his head but only saw two fuzzy shapes.

_Is that Lillian screaming?_

_Hey! _

_What the ..._

"Are you done, Hannibal?"

"I am, my dear."

"The caterers were ready, the kitchen's all ready to go. They've gone."

"Well, let's do some serious cooking then. Chop chop - chow time!"

Clarice looked at him reproachfully.

"Really, Hannibal, that was lame."

A quirky smile appeared on the man's face.

"Never play with food? Not even word play?" he asked, pretending to be shocked.

"No. But if you want to play, how about a little foreplay?"

"Now we're talking," he said and swiftly lifted her from the ground.

Clarice's giggles echoed through the house.

* * *

_PS Most of you probably already know this, but the fanfic I'm currently working on is a collab with Duffie83: 'Redemption', posted under her account. If you're interested in my writings, I think you'll like hers also, and this little project of ours. You might want to check it out..._

_Major Bachman_


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